


We Are All Golden (Nazareth)

by stanakin96



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, I Am A Whore For Famers Markets, It's christmas and hanukkah!, M/M, Pining, Sex Dreams, Sexual Tension, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanakin96/pseuds/stanakin96
Summary: A sickeningly indulgent Christmas/Hanukkah fic pre-season 1 finale where Will is pining & incredibly horny over Hannibal.“Beverly is hosting a Christmas and Hanukkah get together,” Will dug his cut fingernails into the wood, “I thought maybe,” Will stopped, skipping over his words like a stone on the lake. He looked at his shoes.“I would be honored to accompany you,” Hannibal replied, not taking no for an answer.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	We Are All Golden (Nazareth)

Soft, white snow pattered the dark window, its sound reminiscent of a dog’s paws in morning grass.

Will was used to snow as an annoying companion for over half of the months out of the year and something he had grown accustomed to. He’d never felt any specific tie to snow or the feeling of holidays, until now: when snow pattered the dark window of Doctor Lecter’s bedroom.

He remembered Chinese takeout on Thanksgiving and tearing wrapped boxes open on cold Hanukkah nights; though this felt infinitely better.

Will laid still as Hannibal moved one large hand to his ear and began carding warm, big fingers through his curly hair. Will placed his hand on Hannibal’s forearm and lightly dug his nails into his taught skin.

“I think I’ve known you my entire life” Will whispered, not sure who he was being quiet for. He thought, perhaps if he spoke too loudly, the moment would shatter. A teacup he desperately wanted to keep glued together.

“I feel the same,” Hannibal replied as he looked at Will, with his eyes, so softly.

Will, diving into his less-soft urges, pulled Hannibal close and placed a long, open kiss onto his mouth. He carded his other hand up the doctor’s bare chest and rubbed his thumb lightly over his neck. Will wondered so selfishly how it would feel to be the breath in his lungs, filling his throat and blood vessels.

Hannibal kissed back, placing his large hand on the center of Will’s chest and pulling him in with no force. Will was clay in his hands, moldable and ownable. Will let out a small gasp of air into Hannibal’s lips as he lightly scratched his nails over his tender skin. Owned.

“How is it possible to miss something you’ve only just felt?” Will asked Hannibal, wanting to kiss him between every syllable. The spaces between words were too long.

“How is it possible to miss something you’re holding in your hands?” Hannibal asked, scraping his hand up from Will’s chest and softly dragging a long finger over his collarbones. Will couldn’t breathe. Everything about the moment was tactile. Will being the most, of all.

Will put his hands on both sides of Hannibal’s face, allowing his body to be small in the Doctor’s arms. Hannibal slowly kissed him, taking his time and pulling desperate, needy breaths out of Will.

Will knew Hannibal could see exactly what he wanted- his body slipping over his skin and pushing inside of him. Longer and harder than the first time. Teeth marks and finger-bruises. Will swallowed hard, trying and failing to keep at bay how badly he wanted Hannibal, who lightly brushed his fingers from his chest to his hips. Hannibal rubbed light circles into the bone, making Will’s entire body go cold.

_ I want you. I miss you. _ Will thought, over and over again. He thought it so loudly he wondered if Hannibal could hear it.

_ I want you. _

_ I miss you. _

Will jerked awake, his shirt soaked through with sweat like he’d been dipped in it. He was home; Wolftrap, Virginia. Not in Baltimore, in the messy-sheeted bed of Doctor Lecter. One of his dogs began licking at his arm. He happily began scratching behind his ears, alerting the others that he’d woken up with the steady jingling of a collar.

It wasn’t a nightmare; he’d managed to stay away from those the past couple of weeks. Torrid, intimate, skin-soaked dreams had taken their place, and  _ always _ with Hannibal Lecter as their decorated centerpiece. The visions began to interfere with his work, popping up in his mind at crime scenes the moment Hannibal stepped within ten feet of him. Distracting him indefinitely.

Will carded his hand through sweaty, tangled hair and wondered how he’d make it at work today. Maybe Hannibal would be busy, or he could manage to stay a few yardstick measures away from him.

Will stood up and walked into the shower, cold water falling over his face and through his dirty hair. The chill of the water wasn’t enough, though, to keep him from thinking back to his dream. The places Hannibal had touched him, feelings Will could only pretend to understand. He’d studied Doctor Lecter, his large hands and tough body, and could almost replicate how he imagined it felt to be underneath his fingers.

Carelessly, he moved his hand to his bare chest and lightly dug his fingers into the center. Will closed his eyes and pictured Hannibal doing the same. Will’s throat went tight, the water around him feeling warmer by the moment. He could feel Hannibal’s name at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be pushed out into the world  _ over _ and  _ over _ again.

Will continued in his fantasy, and moved his fingers to his collarbones, lightly dragging a finger over the ridge. It was becoming hard to stand: with his eyes closed, allowing the specter of Hannibal into the shower and close to his skin.

_ Using my gift of the imagination for bad instead of good _ , Will thought.

His breath caught on the edge of his mouth as he continued to move his hands over his chest, grabbing for straws at all the places he’d dreamed Hannibal had touched him. The apparition of the taller man pressed him against the wall of his shower, crowding him underneath his body. His hands lowered to his hips, inching closer and closer to a throbbing heat Will couldn’t seem to control. He’d be very late to work.

Will breathed hard and slowly moved his fingers down to his hipbone, pretending that his hands were Doctor Lecter’s and wishing, desperately, that they actually were.

-

“You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell if it helps you visualize.”

“You aren’t happy for the holidays?” Beverly asked, her sarcasm loud like the crunchy ice at her feet.

“I’m Jewish,” Will replied, “and I’m not really in the mood for any present opening at the moment.”

“You’ve never heard of Hanukkah?” Beverly asked, looking at Will.

Hannibal walked onto the scene and shook Jack Crawford’s hand, his long legs and magnetic energy knocked Will off his feet. He’d much rather celebrate with Hannibal- tearing into him, corner to corner, gingerly discarding the wrapping paper. The Doctor saw him and smiled before heading over. Every night for a week.

“Me and some of the guys are having a Christmas slash Hanukkah thing, you should come,” Beverly said, stepping in front of Will and blocking his view of Hannibal. “You can bring a date too,” she teased, “preferably one that will bring a few entrees.”

Will shook his head and smiled. It was small but noticeable. Beverly smiled back and it began to snow.

“Do you have faith?” She asked, stepping out of his eyesight.

Will looked over at Hannibal. How large he was, how he occupied so much space, and somehow could stand to occupy more. Will wished he would, but closer to him. Maybe, if he got lucky, today Hannibal would walk by his side instead of behind him and he’d be able to feel how warm his body was, maybe their fingers would brush.  _ How can you miss something you’ve never felt? _

“Something like that.”

-

Will was midway through with his appointment when the nagging in his head pushed him to the point where he could not wait to ask Hannibal any longer.

“What are you doing this Saturday?” Will asked, awkwardly. He walked out of eyesight and stood in front of the fire as a means for Hannibal not to see his face glowing red.

“I will go to the farmer’s market in the morning,” Hannibal replied, slowly stepping his feet closer to Will, who thought about what it would be like to accompany him. Their hands would brush as Hannibal handed over a coffee he bought for him. Will would watch, entranced, as Hannibal put each of the vendors at ease, making each one feel like they knew him personally.

“Then I will go home, open a bottle of wine, and likely meet with a colleague or two.” He was so close he was almost standing on top of him. “Why?”

Will mentally punched himself for assuming that Hannibal didn’t have plans, “no reason.”

“There’s always a reason,” Hannibal interjected, raising an eyebrow at Will, who turned away from him and walked towards his desk. Will placed both hands on the top and sat down.

“Beverly is hosting a Christmas and Hanukkah get together,” Will dug his cut fingernails into the wood, “I thought maybe,” Will stopped, skipping over his words like a stone on the lake. He looked at his shoes.

“I would be honored to accompany you,” Hannibal replied, not taking no for an answer.

Will thought about telling Hannibal not to come, embarrassed by the fact that he’d made him cancel his plans when he remembered there was no other way he’d rather spend the holidays, he’d selfishly take Hannibal’s acceptance and run with it.

“Under one condition,” Hannibal interjected, bracing Will for impact. Here would begin the  _ doctor-patient friendship _ conversation that Will dreaded. He’d tell him there was nothing but a level of professionalism between the two, and to expect nothing more-Will was sure of it.

“If I am cooking, I have to insist you accompany me to pick up the ingredients and act as my Sioux chef,” Hannibal replied, all the seriousness in the world surrounding his request. Will smiled and took a moment to breathe a long sigh of relief. He looked at Hannibal, once again being transported back to the bed he’d dreamed of so many times.

“What are we cooking?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading babes!!!! leave a comment if you'd like <3
> 
> stanakin96.tumblr.com


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